


love it when hot guys cry

by Lutelyre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Injury, Boot Worship, Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, well this is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lutelyre/pseuds/Lutelyre
Summary: Hux is good at taking advantage.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	love it when hot guys cry

**Author's Note:**

> I know have WIPs that need attention...buttttt I saw some REALLY good fanart and listened to "I Love It When Hot Guys Cry" by Link Lauren and... well, now I'm in the trashbin. This is trash. That is all.
> 
> Takes place right after the end of 'Star Wars: The Force Awakens', because honestly I still haven't seen 'The Rise of Skywalker' and I'm not sure I want to.

Things with the girl had gone horribly. This much was an objective fact, Hux thinks, from all sides. 

After the biggest failure of the First Order in remembered history, Armitage Hux and a likely traumatized stormtrooper are now sitting in a rickety rebel shuttle with an unconscious, bleeding Kylo Ren on the floor between them, slowly rolling through parsecs toward the new First Order base. 

(Hux supposes it’s now an ex-rebel shuttle, so there’s one measly victory, if you can call retrieving one hunk of junk a victory, which you absolutely cannot, so Hux doesn’t.)

The rusty ship abruptly hits a rippling lightwave and shudders, jostling them all, and Hux makes a noise of high-strung irritation in his throat, ignoring the frightened glance the stormtrooper throws him at the sound. This shuttle really should have been decommissioned ages ago. How on earth did a puny group of rebels manage to fly one of these decrepit buckets of scrap metal to a relative success against the First Order? Against his _weapon_? Ludicrous, the thought of it. 

His hands are clenched into fists in his lap.

Ren suddenly groans like a dying wookie, shaking himself awake in a start and catching Hux’s attention.

It certainly took him long enough. They’ve already been in hyperspeed for an hour and a half, and if Hux bothered to care he would’ve noticed the stormtrooper was clearly worried Ren would never gain consciousness again. 

Still, isn’t this man supposed to be a prodigy? 

He eyes Ren, lying on a makeshift pallet on the floor of the ship’s hold. He’s been severely weakened, that much is obvious. Of all the visible injuries, the laceration the girl managed to land on his face in their--honestly, totally unnecessary--lightsaber duel looks the nastiest. There’s blood so dark it’s almost black matted in the cloth of Ren’s armor, blood streaked in thick rivulets over his face. Hux doubts he can see out of that eye right now; it will likely need medical attention soon if he ever wants to see from it again. 

Healing it will be a waste of First Order resources, in Hux’s private opinion, but he comforts himself with the thought that this empty husk of a shuttle doesn’t have much supplies on board, so Ren will simply have to bear it, unmasked, until they land. 

Let Ren struggle for a while, Hux thinks consolingly to himself. Let him suffer. 

God knows, Hux deeply needs someone to suffer right now. Ren is really the best candidate. The stormtrooper would be easy, like kicking a baby ewok, but Hux is angry enough he doesn’t want it easy at the moment. It’s just as well. 

Ren appears to have gathered enough energy to speak.

“What-what happened?” He looks a little bewildered, as though he’s lost track of space and time for once in his life. It’s a provocative look for him, Hux notes. Does he always wake up like that, gasping and reaching? Is he always so desperate? 

“You failed, the girl escaped,” Hux drawls the words as if utterly bored by Ren’s antics, which to be fair, he absolutely is. “A useless effort on your part, I might add.” 

He lets himself lean back into his seat, uncurls his fingers and instead inspects his nails idly. It won’t do to let his tightly leashed rage show to Kylo Ren, at least any more than normal.

“You let yourself get distracted and ruined everything, again. Bravo.”

Hux is often viewed as temperamental by his peers. They see the obvious vitriol in his eyes and assume he lacks self-control, believe him weak because of it. Hux doesn’t mind. People underestimate anger, you know, and he has learned through much trial and error occasionally it pays to be underestimated. 

Constant fury is grueling, grinding work. It takes patience to be as angry for as long as Hux has managed to be, it takes skill.

“ _Silence_ ,” Ren’s voice sounds as though he intended to use Force behind the syllables, but, very interestingly, there is no sudden thickness in the air. “I-I do not-need your opinions, Hux.”

His mouth is slack over his own words from pain. He brings one hand to his cheek slowly, makes an oddly smothered cry as his fingertip brushes lightly against the torn flesh of his eyelid and pulls away. His face, already always so pale from being hidden in that ridiculous helmet, looks pallid and sweaty. 

Hux happens to be very good at being angry, but really, most people are not. 

With Ren awake, however, he actually feels a modicum more relaxed; the irritation coursing through him focused on a goal. Outlets are important to have, it’s true. Hux can acknowledge without fuss that even he needs to blow off steam occasionally.

“Ah, no touching,” Hux says condescendingly, tsking. “We do want you to still have _something_ resembling an eye left for them to work with when you’re in surgery, don’t we?”

Ren’s startles at that, the tendons showing in his neck as he swallows hard. His hand hovers in the air for a long moment, flexing with indecision, and then falls back down to his side, defeated. He grits his teeth hard, stares resolutely at the ceiling. The shadowed line of his jaw is sharp in the shiphold’s dimmed light.

Hux tilts his head, considering. He wanted Ren to suffer, yes, but there was something better almost happening here, something in the sharp flare of Ren’s nose, the way he licks his lips nervously and the way he lies splayed wide and tall and so _large_ below Hux on the floor, struck down and helpless.

Hux’s own mouth feels dry, suddenly.

He gazes at Ren for a long beat, assessing, and makes a decision.

“Leave us immediately to monitor controls. Don’t return until we make contact with the Order.” 

It takes the stupid stormtrooper a long moment to realize Hux is speaking to him, and it seems it takes Ren half a second to realize as well, which is extremely amusing. There’s an awkward pause where Ren’s one uninjured eye cuts sideways to Hux, where he opens his mouth as if he’s going to order the stormtrooper to stay, ridiculously. 

As if he still thinks he has any power here at all, any power over _Hux_. The stormtroopers are not at Ren’s beck and call anymore, that much should be painfully obvious. 

He raises an eyebrow, staring coolly back. It’s harder not to laugh at him than it’s ever been before. The gall of it all, the nerve of Kylo Ren still trying to toss his head and demand more, without earning anything. He’s always acted like a petulant child.

Maybe it was having rebel scum as parents, or those years he’d spent training as a Jedi wonder boy. Perhaps it’s easy to think you actually can have it all when everyone tells you it’s possible.

Hux may hate his own father with the kind of venomous spite capable of literally disintegrating lesser men, but at least he didn’t grow up soft. 

The stormtrooper has already left. Ren closes his mouth. There are beads of fresh sweat rolling down his temple. He looks very, very good like this, Hux decides. 

Hux has worked for everything. Every step he’s ever taken has been hard-won and grudging; he knows the sour smell of defeat better than the smell of his own sweat. 

He could have explained all of this to Ren using very small words, but for once he isn’t in the mood. It appears that somehow, from within this whole useless catastrophe with the girl, there’s a chance Hux can still achieve a small personal victory. 

He’d rather focus on that.

“Now, I don’t expect you should really move very much,” Hux lets his wrist drape along the arm of his chair, resting his chin in his other hand casually. Ren is still looking at him. “It’d only make it worse for yourself, not to mention harder on the healers.”

“I am not _listening_ to-to you.”

Intriguing, how Ren is almost directly below Hux now, right by his feet. The pallet he’s lying on originally had been placed in the center of the hold as they fled the crumbling base, but evidently the shuttle’s ungainly rocking had slid him closer. 

“Although, maybe you’d prefer to have a mechanical eye instead, to match your granddaddy? Isn’t that a wet dream of yours?” 

“Shut up-just-just shut up!” 

Ren’s voice is harsh, vulnerable. He’s in pain, but he’s also depleted and unprotected and maybe a little lost, it sounds. His stumbling words, the way his broad jaw is locked into place, the twitching in his legs. It’s all painfully obvious in a way Kylo Ren never is obvious about anything, and fascinating. 

Ren’s dark eyes are darting over Hux as if searching for a way to hurt him. 

Of course, it’s a wasted effort. There isn’t any way to hurt Hux now; he’s at his lowest point. 

There are years, actual fucking _years_ of his painstaking work now reduced to nothing but rubble floating through the galaxy. There’s likely also a fair amount of punishment coming, judgement to endure from the Supreme Leader and his fucking father, from the derisive looks the other officers will give him for months. 

“Incestuous wet dreams are certainly disturbing, but still, I’d imagine even the Sith have desires, don’t they?” Hux lets his smile widen, eyes glittering maliciously.

He’s been here before. He can build himself again. It will be challenging, but he can do it, he can _savor_ it, the acerbic coils of his rage driving him up and forward, even higher than before.

“Is that why the girl made you lose all rational sense?” He keeps his tone deceptively light, but it’s dripping with contempt. “Did you think about fucking her, imagine you could be overdramatic dark rulers together? Were you aching to not be so _alone_?”

“ _Fuck_ y-you-I’ll _end_ -If you don’t c-close your fucking-,” Ren winces and breaks off, a noise of pain suppressed in his throat. 

Kylo Ren doesn’t know how to handle defeat at all.

“Could you really make me shut up right now, Kylo, if you wanted?” Hux crosses one leg over his knee, loose and comfortable. He’s never felt more in-control, and it’s good, tastes rich and smooth under his tongue.

His foot dangles close to Ren’s face, his heel almost brushing Ren’s damp forehead. Hux could kick Ren if he wanted, step on his face, even make Ren lick his boot. 

His breath hitches a little at that thought, heat rolling through him.  


“I don’t think you could.”

“What the _fuck_ are you-.” Ren’s mouth twists suddenly, hissing through his teeth. “Your thoughts are-are _vile_.”

 _‘Good_ ,’ Hux thinks viciously. He’s always hated Ren’s practice of brazenly probing his mind, but it suddenly occurs that he could actually use Ren’s nasty little habit in this situation. 

He shoves the intruding reach of Ren against his mind deep into the fantasy, envisioning every detail; the feel of Ren’s tongue on his boot, the arch of his neck as he slants his chin up to lap at the leather helplessly, the curl of his lip and the way blood smears over his face. 

After Ren licks his boot clean maybe Hux will step on his throat, relentless. He’ll choke him out bit by bit, let him breathe only a little, only when _Hux_ wants him too. He’ll wait until Ren is gagging and moaning, spasming on the pallet, and then Hux will twist his heel into the deep gash up his neck and Ren will _jerk--_

Or, even better; Hux will drag Ren up by his hair until he’s kneeling, struggling to stay upright, and make him get out his cock. Hux will pull on his gloves slowly and then he’ll jerk Ren off with one hand on his cock and one hand on his throat. When Ren’s eyes are rolling in his head as he thrusts desperately, and blood from his wound is soaking Hux’s glove, he’ll just sit back and watch Ren come all over himself, almost sobbing--

But in his imagination there aren’t really limits, are there? 

It’s very satisfying to suddenly picture Ren naked on his hands and knees for Hux, the slope of his broad shoulders trembling, shaggy hair shadowing his face. Hux will spread him wide open and pause for a painfully long moment, make him squirm for it until Hux is good and ready. Ren’s back will arch, dropping to his elbows and moaning because he wants it so _fucking badly_ \--

Abruptly, the real Ren on the floor makes a high, half-strangled noise. 

Hux looks deliberately sideways at him under his lashes. Ren is shaking on the pallet, cheeks flushed and breathing suddenly ragged. His hands are fisting by his sides. Hux watches his hips quivering, watches his lips part as he pants, and smiles.

“I see. Maybe the girl wasn’t the type to inspire you after all?” 

“S-stop- _ah_ \--s _top_ _it_ ,” Ren’s words are garbled and frantic. He tries to turn his head, and a painful groan breaks his lips as the slash on his face spills dribbles of fresh blood down his neck. There’s something new in the groan though, something broken and needy. 

“I can’t-y-you wouldn’t- _fuck._ ”

Honestly, It was almost too simple, and with anyone else Hux would have been disappointed. Still, a raw and defenseless Kylo Ren is a very rare thing, and in the right situation anything could be simple, if you know how to take advantage of it. 

Hux is good at taking advantage.

This man is the terror of the First Order. A jedi-killer, the pride of the Sith, and _Hux_ made him gasp without even lifting a fucking finger, made him sweat and shiver and almost-not-quite want Hux to grind him under his shoe like dust. That’s ultimately worth all of the stupidity and waste of the last few months, worth everything, Hux thinks feverishly. 

A bright, heady power is spiraling through him. Hux looks at Kylo Ren and knows, _knows_ , that he could do anything he wanted right now, anything at all. That’s a kind of freedom, isn’t it? 

He wonders idly if this is what it feels like to be one with the Force.

“Don’t be a disappointment, Kylo,” Hux sighs, long-suffering. “We both know you don’t really want to stop.” 

He lowers his still casually dangling foot, nudges Ren’s bloody lip with the toe of his boot. 

“Now, open up for me.”

Ren glares at him furiously, his body straining, the flush of shameful lust warring with anger on his face. The color so high in his cheeks it nearly reaches the roots of his wild hair, where a vein pulses in his temple. Hux will get a fist in that hair soon, and he’s looking forward to it. He taps Ren’s lip again, harder, allows a satisfied smirk curl over his face, looks Ren in the eye and doesn’t blink once.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Ren opens his mouth, tilting his chin up to drag his tongue along the bottom of Hux’s boot. 

Hux closes his eyes.

Kylo Ren is going to want him, going to cry for him. Maybe someday Hux will break his heart into a million pieces, or maybe one day he’ll realize this was a terrible mistake, but for fucks sake he is going to love every damn second.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I got any of the characterization right really. Still, this was a lot of fun. Thank you for reading. All thoughts, comments, noises are very greatly appreciated!


End file.
